


Consequences Be Damned

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Dean Winchester AU [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Professor Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Winchester has a meeting with the university president, Chuck Shurley. The passion between Dean and the reader continues to build.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences Be Damned

You grabbed a bottle of water from Dean’s refrigerator and returned to your seat on the corner of his couch, the one you’d come to think of as “your spot.” You picked up your book and highlighter, returning to the notetaking you’d been doing when you’d taken a break to grab another bottle of water.

You’d been at Dean’s for nearly three hours, waiting for him. You had no idea where he was or what he was doing. You’d received a short, cryptic text message stating he had a meeting and instructing you to meet him at his house. That had been after you’d found out he’d canceled his afternoon class. You were starting to worry because he still wasn’t home.  

You’d actually been early to your last class of the day with Dean, hoping to catch a minute alone with him. Ever since he’d told you that Sam had made the pictures go away, you’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and let him hold you. Unfortunately, that had apparently been postponed.

With nothing better to do, you’d left school and gone straight to Dean’s house, letting yourself in the back door with the key he’d given you a couple of weeks ago. You made yourself comfortable, shoes off, bottle of water next to you, studying with the television playing quietly in the background. You checked the time on your phone again, wondering what was taking Dean so long.

It was another twenty minutes before you heard the deep rumble of the Impala’s engine as he pulled into his driveway. You shoved your papers into your book and closed it, setting it on the table and rising to your feet just as Dean opened his front door. A weary smile spread across his face.

“Hey,” he said. “You been here long?”

“Couple of hours,” you replied. “How was your meeting?”

Dean shook his head, pushed the door shut and took the bags in his hand to the kitchen. “Can you give me a minute to get settled? It’s been a long day and I just want to relax for a few minutes.” He emptied the bags, pulled a beer from the refrigerator and leaned against the counter, popping off the top and taking a long drink.

You sidled up to him and slipped your arm around his waist, leaning against him. He tucked you under his arm, his lips pressing against your temple. He drew in a shaky breath, then let it out slowly. “Come sit down with me.” He wrapped his fingers around yours and tugged you toward the couch, pulling you down to sit beside him.

Something was wrong, you could tell. You should have known that things couldn’t go back to the way they had been, it was too easy. You felt unease creeping up your spine, making your head hurt.

“Dean, what is it?” you asked nervously.

“My meeting?” he said hesitantly. “It was with the university president.”

“What?” you gasped. “Why?”

“I asked to meet with him,” Dean said. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, then he sat forward with his elbows on the knees, staring across the room at the TV.

“But Sam took care of everything with Jo,” you mumbled. “It’s over.”

“But, what if it isn’t, Y/N?” he asked quietly. “What if she still has the pictures? What if she’d gone to him herself? I couldn’t live everyday worrying that day was the day we were going to be discovered, that day was the day that everything would be over.” He sighed heavily. “So I told him everything - how we met, what happened with Jo, and that you’re my student _and_ my teaching assistant.”

“What happened?” you asked. You were afraid to hear the answer. You wanted to wrap your arms around your head and pretend none of this was happening, but instead you slipped off the couch and kneeled in front of Dean, between his legs. You rested your hands on his arms, trying in some small way to comfort him.

“We talked for over an hour,” he answered. “It was...not what I expected.”

“Did he fire you?” you whispered.

“No,” Dean shook his head. “Not yet anyway. He asked me to give him until tomorrow to decide what he’s going to do. Said it was a lot to take in and process. He did tell me he appreciated my honesty and that I came to him before it blew up into a scandal that hurt the university.” He shrugged his shoulders, his hands tightly clenched in front of him. “I have no idea what he’s going to do.”

“This is all my fault,” you muttered. “I never should have -”

“Never should have what, Y/N?” Dean interrupted. “Met me? Kissed me? Fallen in love with me? This is on both of us, but you know what? You can’t help who you fall in love with. If I could go back in time, if I had some guardian angel who could send me back to that moment I saw you sitting on Sam’s patio, I would still talk to you, I would still kiss you. There is nothing I would change about any of this, not even Jo taking those goddamn pictures. Because this, what we have, the two of us, that’s something not everyone gets to have in their lives. So, yes, this situation sucks ass, but you and me, that’s what’s important. I’d give up everything if it meant keeping you.”

You were nodding, amazed at how easily Dean had put into words everything you were feeling. You didn’t even realize you were crying until he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, cupping your face in his hand. His other hand was on your waist, a comforting weight you had missed the last few days. You rose up on your knees, your hands sliding up Dean’s thighs, coming to rest right at his hips.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, easily lifting you with one arm to hug you against his chest, his lips against your neck, murmuring sweet words you weren’t really hearing because you were already lost in the feeling of him touching you. It had been too long, too many days had passed since you’d felt his lips against your skin. You pressed yourself against him, sighing.

Dean slid his hand underneath your shirt, up your waist to your breast. His thumb brushed across your nipple, a light, gentle touch, bringing it to attention. You raised your arms over your head, allowing him to pull your shirt off. He dropped it to the floor, then he picked you up, his hands under your thighs, his strong arms lifting you easily so you were straddling him. He dropped his head, mouthing your breasts through the flimsy fabric of your bra. He rested his hands on your waist as he rained soft kisses over your neck and chest, his beard tickling the sensitive skin.

You reached behind yourself and unhooked your bra, letting it fall between you. Dean growled low in the back of his throat as he took your breast into his mouth, sucking it greedily. God, his mouth and the things he could do with those lips and that tongue. You were so consumed with what he was doing with his mouth that you didn’t even register the fact that he had snapped open your jeans and slid his thick fingers inside the front of your damp underwear.

You hurriedly unbuttoned the pink shirt he was wearing, running your hands over the muscles of his shoulders and arms as you pushed it off of him. Touching him was like touching a marble statue of a Greek god, all hard lines and well-formed muscles, but his skin was warm and pliable under your hands, perfect and gorgeous. It was littered with freckles and you wanted to kiss every one of them.

Dean pushed you off of his lap to your feet and tugged down your jeans and underwear, his mouth wet and open and eager against your stomach as he removed your clothes. You could hear the way his breath was tearing in and out of his throat, you could feel the impatience emanating from him as he yanked off the remainder of your clothes and pulled you back onto the couch, lying you beneath him, his hips settling between your legs. His cock was a hard, thick line straining against the buttons of his jeans as he ground against you. He kissed you for the first time that night, a long, deep kiss that made your toes curl and your heart race.

“Jesus, Dean,” you groaned. You were close, ready to come from just the last few minutes with him, that coil in the pit of your stomach so tight it was almost painful.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers sliding through the slick folds of skin, his thumb rubbing mercilessly against your swollen clit. He bit at your neck, a hard nip that stung, though you barely noticed it because two of his thick fingers were prodding at your pussy, pushing inside, filling you.

That was all it took and you were gone, the orgasm rocking through you, your stomach flipping, your walls clenching around his fingers, a sharp gasp escaping you. “Fuck me,” you moaned.

“Just wait,” Dean whispered in your ear, his fingers pumping madly in and out of you, your hips bucking wildly against his hand as the orgasm worked its way through you. Your nails dug into Dean’s arm, holding on for dear life as every sensation imaginable seemed to assault you.

When you finally started to come down, you were acutely aware of the hot flush all over your body, the obscene sounds that had come out of your mouth and your insatiable appetite for Dean. His lips worked at your throat, licking and sucking a trail from your collarbone to your jaw. He dragged his fingers from your overstimulated pussy and fumbled at the button of his jeans.

You pushed his hand away and unbuttoned them, struggling to pull them down despite Dean being trapped between you and the back of the small couch. You slid to the floor, kneeling beside it, using both hands to remove the bothersome denim and his boxers. Dean lay back against the couch, his green eyes hooded and dark with lust, watching you. You gazed at him, taking in the broad shoulders, the biceps that were almost intimidating in their size, the muscles obvious beneath the slight give of his stomach, his cock hard and twitching where it lay against him, leaking pre-come, his strong legs, the thick thighs, the bowlegs you loved. Every inch of him. You leaned forward, placing a kiss to the inside of his thigh, kneading the muscles of his leg. You took a hold of his hard shaft, stroking him carefully as your tongue licked across his balls. He trembled beneath you, his hand brushing through your hair and cupping the back of your head as you took the head of his cock between your lips.

Dean moaned your name, his hips rising off the couch, pushing himself further into your mouth. You grasped him at the base of his erection, using short, even strokes to get him off as you pulled him into your mouth. You took in as much of him as possible, your cheeks hollowed, sucking and licking, your tongue sliding up and down the long shaft, then swirling around the head before swallowing him down.

You felt yourself moving, Dean’s arms around you, and then you were on the floor, Dean hovering over you, his mouth on yours, his tongue shoving into your mouth, exploring every inch. He lifted you, his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I need you,” he murmured as he slowly entered you, one glorious inch after another, his arms trembling as he held himself above you, his lips still roaming over your neck, your jaw, your lips. You opened your legs and grabbed his ass, pulling him into you until he was fully seated, filling you completely. He moved slow and easy, his hand splayed over your back, balanced on his forearms.

Tight, careful thrusts, pulling out almost all the way before easing back in, your leg sliding up around his waist, your hips rising to meet every thrust from Dean. You were both gasping, breath intermingling, Dean pumping in and out of you, harder and faster, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm, erratic thrusting that had you squeezing your eyes closed and pushing yourself against his hard cock, until you felt yourself let go and you were coming, hard.

Dean rocked into you, once, twice, a third time and then he was coming himself, the two of so intertwined that you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, pleasure encompassing both of you in a tight cocoon of satisfaction.

He lay sprawled over your chest when it was over, his weight shifted to the side, the two of you lying in the piles of discarded clothing. He kissed you more times than you could count, his hands roamed your body as he whispered how much he’d missed you, how much he’d loved you, how you were all that mattered. Everything was pushing you back to the edge of arousal, his touch, his smell, his _goddamn_ words, all of it had you desperate for him, had you pulling his hand between your legs, begging him for more.

Professor Winchester was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

You could barely concentrate in your classes, constantly checking your phone for any word from Dean regarding Mr. Shurley’s decision. You were on pins and needles all day, fidgety and nervous.

Halfway through your Theories of Modern Languages class, you couldn’t take anymore. You quietly shoved your things into your bag and slipped out the side entrance of the classroom. You knew Dean didn’t have a class right now, so you hurried across campus, hoping to catch him in his office, alone.

For once, luck was on your side. Dean was in his office, stretched out on his ugly plaid couch, papers strewn across the floor where they had slid out of his hand when he’d fallen asleep. His black rimmed glasses were still on his face, his eyes closed, his long lashes dark against his cheeks, his breathing even and steady. You set your backpack on the floor, crossed the room and picked up the papers from the floor. You pulled the rest of the papers from his hand, added them to the stack, the put them on his desk. You closed the door, returned to his side, took his glasses from his face and put them on the side table, then you laid down next to him, your head on his chest, your arm around him.

He sighed, shifted slightly, turning on his side, his arm sliding around your waist and his face buried in your hair. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you laughed. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “But my papers didn’t get graded.”

“Have you heard from Mr. Shurley?” you asked.

“Not yet,” he answered, his arms tightening around you, hugging you close.

Dean’s hands slid over your body, caressing, rubbing, massaging. He caught your lips in his, kissing you deeply. He broke off the kiss, his lips sliding down to the juncture between you neck and shoulder, sucking deeply. His hand slid down your leg and under your skirt, cupping you, his palm pressing and grinding against your heated core.

“Professor Winchester,” you moaned.

“Shhh,” he murmured. His fingers slid past the waistband of your panties, dipping into the soft folds of skin. Your legs fell open and your eyes closed as Dean’s fingers explored you, touching and caressing you.

A satisfied humming sound was coming from your lips, drawing a low chuckle from Dean. He dragged his lips up your neck and along your jaw until his mouth was pressed against your ear.

“Do you know how much I missed touching you, kissing you, being with you?” he whispered. Two of his fingers slipped into your dripping pussy, pumping slowly. “I love the little sounds you make when I touch you.” His tongue flicked out and licked slowly along your ear. “I love the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you smell. I can’t get enough of you.” His fingers moved faster, thrusting faster and faster. He kissed your neck, alternately biting, licking and sucking. “I want you to come for me, Y/N.”

You were writhing in ecstasy under Dean’s touch, mewling uncontrollably, your forearm pressed to your mouth, desperately trying to contain the sounds of pleasure escaping you. The orgasm slammed into you, scorching through you. You turned and pressed your face against Dean’s chest, screaming as you came, the sound muffled against his shirt.

Dean kissed you, holding you, gently working you through the orgasm. Once you’d come down, the death grip you had on his shirt finally relaxing, he let his fingers slide out of you, but his lips never drifted from your neck or your lips, holding and kissing you.

You could have laid in Dean’s arms all day, happy and content, surrounded by the love you knew he felt for you. You’d never been with anyone who was willing to give up everything for you. You felt all of the emotions of the last week building up inside you, ready to burst free. You buried your face in the space between Dean’s arm and his side, your arms wrapped tightly around him, unable to express exactly what you were feeling, knowing only that you’d never felt like this, never had this in your life and that you were never going to let it go. It didn’t matter what happened, you weren’t letting this go.

Dean rubbed your back, not speaking, letting his presence be enough to comfort you. He sighed heavily and you knew that he was feeling the same things you were, the tension from waiting for Mr. Shurley’s decision weighing heavily on both of you.

The office phone on Dean’s desk rang, the sound jarring in the quiet room. Dean pressed a kiss to your temple, then climbed over you, hurrying across the room. He cleared his throat several times before answering.

“Professor Winchester,” he said. “Good afternoon, Mr. Shurley. I appreciate you getting back to me.”

You pushed yourself up, leaning against the back of the couch. You couldn’t see Dean’s face, just the tense set of his broad shoulders. He was quiet, listening intently, occasionally nodding.

“I completely understand,” Dean said after a few minutes. “Thank you for your help and understanding. Have a good day, sir.” He hung up the phone.

You waited, impatiently. He seemed to be taking forever to turn around and tell you what your future held. When he finally looked at you over his shoulder, he had a slight smile on his face. You prayed that meant good news.

“I’m not fired,” he said.

You pushed yourself off the couch, catapulting yourself across the room into his arms. “Thank God,” you grinned. “What else did he say?”

“I’m on probation,” Dean answered. “Until further notice. And my classes will be randomly monitored for the remainder of the semester.”

“That’s not so bad,” you said.

“There’s more,” he said. “You have to transfer out of my class and you can no longer be my teaching assistant. You can continue helping me with my research, but it’s unpaid and voluntary. Mr. Shurley has the scheduling office adjusting your class schedule right now. We can continue seeing each other, but he would really appreciate it if we kept it as low key as possible.”

You took a step back, contemplating how you felt about that decision. It was more than you had hoped for and what really mattered was that you and Dean could be together.

A worried expression crossed his face and he bit at his lower lip. “Are you okay with this?”

You threw your arms around his neck. “Absolutely, Professor Winchester,” you whispered against his mouth. “Absolutely.”


End file.
